Easier
by PUZZLEFISH
Summary: In the end, it was easier to talk of a dead friend's love than of his own. Minor spoilers, The Singing/Naming.


Disclaimer: Don't own Pellinor, or the characters. Just the concept. :3 All the dialogue - excluding the Dernhil/Cadan scene in italics - are taken directly from _The Singing_. Savvy? It belongs to Alison Croggon, sadly, although we /do/ share a name. XD Anyways, yeah. :]

A/N: So, yes. I dunno if it seems OOC, it kind of does to me but idk. XD I had the idea, and wrote it down. 8D Review!

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_"Is that all you have learned?" said Cadvan gently. "Surely you have learned other things? Have you not also learned something about love?" _

In a way, the question was a form of he, Cadvan of Lirigon, asking Maerad if she loved him. Oh, he was sure she held at least a platonic love for him, or the love and bonding a young child had to a parent; he had acted as such in a way, nourishing and cherishing her. He'd been her guardian, but it wasn't enough sometimes. At some points he thought she picked up on his subtle hints, the soft, gentle tones he used and the looks he gave her but sometimes he didn't. After all, how could he, a simple Bard, measure up to an Elidhu? Arkan the Winterking, nonetheless. Had it been any other perhaps he could have competed but it seems Maerad was unpredictable in her feelings as much as her actions. But he couldn't resent her for it; she had been arrogant, so was he. But his arrogance was more a shield than anything else, a way to protect himself.

He saw her blush, wondering if she was going to confess some great, undying love for him. It was a wasted hope, however, as the silence lasted and almost grew awkward for Cadvan. When she moved her lips, he didn't quite allow him to hope nor despair; it would be too much, either way.

"Perhaps I have, I don't know. I don't think I know anything about it."

So that was that. "What is it then, that draws you to Hem?" He asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. Cadvan couldn't let it show, though; Maerad didn't need anything more to worry her, especially if his feelings were unrequited. Even if they were, he didn't want to know. In all honesty it was easier for him to imagine her smiles and little glances were reserved bits of affection for he and he alone than face the fact that it was probably just their deep companionship. He was Cadvan of Lirigon, feared and powerful, but he was also a coward. In their secret souls, even the most courageous were cowards but it was especially profound when it was yourself admitting it.

It was easier for Cadvan to talk of other things, other subjects and pretend rather than ask if Maerad loved him. Easier than bearing the pain of another lost love, and potentially ruining their friendship; he couldn't lose her, not like he lost Ceredin. It was easier to hear of her love for her brother than speak of themselves, for although he had lived many long years, Cadvan had sworn off love after Ceredin. His own shortcomings had destroyed the woman he loved more than anything else, and Cadvan still had to suffer with the knowledge that if he hadn't been such a sore loser she would be alive and with him now.

But he had Maerad now, and she him.

"He's my _brother_. He's my only kin. I don't like to think of him afraid, or sick, or maybe alone. I've learned that people can be--kind. Silvia and Malgorn and Dharin and you and so many others have been kind to me." Cadvan's heart swelled as she named him, and he pursed his lips before answering.

"I think it is more than kindness." _It's love, Maerad._ "But kindness is a word for it, I agree. Maerad, I think human evil is easy to explain. But what we call kindness, or love: that is endlessly mysterious. And I don't believe you know nothing of love. I think you loved Dernhil, in the short time that you knew him. And I know he loved you." He had almost said it. Cadvan had almost admitted it, almost asked if she loved him as much as he her... But he hadn't been able to say it. Cadvan barely listened to her next words, but the graveness in his expression was sincere.

"I did love Dernhill," He felt as if something had pierced through his heart and lodged an object there. Any words that he had been about to say were stilled, and there was a lump in his throat. Cadvan was having a slight difficulty drawing breath, but he hid it well. "But I only understood later. And now he's dead, and it's too late."

"Perhaps Dernhil knew there was no time. He had foresight... But he was ever one who looked clearly into his own heart. That is the beauty of his poems. Would that all of us were so lucid." _Especially you, Cadvan._ He thought, mentally berating himself. Closing his eyes, he thanked the heavens he was turned away because a tear fell from beneath his eyelids. A tear for his honest, good-hearted friend who had met his end too soon. Dernhil had spoken briefly of his love to Cadvan, smiling as he looked at him.

_"I'm in love with her, old friend." Dernhil said, looking Cadvan in the eye. Cadvan blinked, looking skeptical. "So soon, Dernhil? We haven't been here long, and we're leaving..." Dernhil shrugged, not looking bothered. "I know it when I feel it. And I think you love her too; or, well, you will one day. You'll see, Cadvan."_

_Oh, how right you were, Dernhil._ Cadvan thought heavily, cursing himself. Every instance he opened his mouth to speak of his own love, something else came out. And at this perfect opportunity, he had backed out at the very last minute.

It was easier to speak of Dernhil's love for Maerad than his own, to mask his feelings behind his late friend's. And it was easier for him to her of her love for Dernhil than have her reject his own; this game he played was easier than succumbing to reality's waiting grasp.

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? REVIEW.


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